Vivant-Mort
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"Il déambulait dans la rue, comme si il cherchait un repère quelconque qui puisse l'aider dans sa traversée. Il marchait un peu à la manière des zombies dans Shaun of The Dead, sans but. Ses yeux étaient perdu dans l'infini lointain. Une larme coula sur sa joue, fit un vol avant d'atterrir sur sa chaussure traînant à moitié par terre. L'air d'une infini tristesse sur son visage ne collait pas vraiment avec la scène qui se jouait autour de lui : un soleil éclatant qui avait surpris pas mal de personne, des gens qui discutaient sur une terrasse autour d'un apéro garni de cacahuète, bretzel et autres, une légère brise fraîche ma foi fort peu désagréable souffler en toute légèreté. Puis il y avait lui, l'intrus sur le schéma du bonheur, l'inconnus de trop sur l'équation."
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